The Storm
by Kat Dakuu
Summary: September 2014, a storm of unprecedented volume descended on the world. They had no warning. They could only scrabble for their loved ones as the war began. This was not another world war, but a world-wide war. They never expected the attack to come from outside their tiny planet, but they will fight for it until the last alien falls. (Pairing list inside)
1. Prologue

**Pairings:** Russia/America, France/England/Spain, Denmark/Sweden, Germany/Prussia, Japan/China, Poland/Lithuania, Turkey/Greece, Norway/Iceland, Hong Kong/S. Korean, Canada/Ukraine

**Warnings:** Gay and straight couples, explicit sex, language, mild gore, incest, minor character death, and a threesome

**Un-official names:** Denmark: Mathias  
Norway: Lukas  
Iceland: Emil  
N. Korea: Hyungsoo  
Hong Kong: Xiao  
Taiwan: Mei  
Vietnam: Lien  
Ukraine: Kateryna  
Netherlands: Lars  
Lichtenstein: Lili  
(I will probably throw in many more characters at least in name. I'll add those into notes as I go)

Prologue

_September 21__st__, 2014  
_Colored bands stretched across the Icelandic night sky in the hours before dawn. Perhaps not that strange, but these were no northern lights. The yellow lights flickered and crackled, traveling quick. Bluish white flashes joined the broken darkness as hot, _hot_ sparks jumped here and there. No one saw the coming storm.

The clouds moved south—over Germany and France. They mixed with the ones already over Britain. And still no one saw the storm coming. The thick grey moved to the far corners both east and west. They wandered over New York before settling at Washington, and on the far side of the world, Beijing. Five pockets of storms stretched across the distance. Each gathered as strong as the next, but left no scattered storms around it. It did not rain, no, not a drop fell.

People started waking then. News reports circulated. In China, standard news about sub-standard weather. Half awake Russians thinking _how I missed the rain _before falling back asleep. America issued flash flood warnings across the east coast before the rain even started because those clouds were just so thick you couldn't see the sky for miles. And suddenly, like a blade-cut wall, blue skies again. But, it was just a storm.

It was just a storm, but it did not leave. In some places they sat for hours without moving in the obvious breeze. Nor did they loose a drop of rain. Only in Britain did it rain, but then, it always rained in Britain. Nervous? The world had no reason to be so they ignored the signs.

At exactly five past the hour, it started to rain.

xx

_China__:__ 8:00 am  
_A small boy sat on the stream's bank, tossing flat stones into the gentle flow. Morning light filtered down to the fresh green earth slicked with dew. Despite the heavy cover of the clouds, the boy laughed. Three plips followed as he broke his rock skipping record.

"Liang! Brother Liang!" a tiny voice shattered the morning calm. The rock sunk beneath the water's surface, so soundlessly he didn't notice it. "Mother is calling!" And yet the voice continued to grow until it turned into a monstrous noise. Liang whirled around to see his little sister with her long twin braids and doey eyes. After a second of surprise, he decided her voice rode on the back of thunder and indeed he saw lightning flash in the sky, but the thunder growled all wrong.

Beijing lay beyond the hills, sparkling like a jewel against the heavy clouds that congregated there. Lightning flashed horizontal across the whole length of sky that he could see. Rather than yellow lightning or a bright white, it sparked blue. The few yellow shocks that shot downwards barely captured the boy's attention next to those blue sparks getting more frequent and numerous above the distant city. Then, like something from out of an American movie, a shape emerged out of the cloud. Liang's eyes went wide and he screamed.

His sister's eyes dotted with tears, her mouth opening in an 'o'. She squashed her stuffed rabbit tighter to her chest. Brother was mean, but he kept screaming. Kept screaming past the length for a joke. She turned slowly to see a slick sheet of silver tilt over the city. Black things dripped off or held onto its underside as horrid green and blue lights ricocheted off the top. The beast in the sky did not fully emerge from the cloud, but it already hung over a corner of the great city. Who knew how far it continued beyond. "Liang!"

The shrill cry ate up the boy's will to scream. "Jia-li!" He ran forward with his hands outstretched for the girl barely aged five. She fell into them and they both stared up in horror at the sky, even as they tried to hide their eyes in each other's hair. They could not look away, try as they might. Liang squeezed his eyes shut. What was this beast doing here?

Suddenly the stillness broke. In the sky, a roar began. Nothing like thunder, it grew from a gentle engine hum and as if that car rushed toward them, the engine noise intensified. Still the children did not scream. They did not believe. The thing in the sky slid further out of its cover and they trembled. They quaked as the stream water trembled in its banks behind them. Never before had they seen something bigger than the city but this thing dwarfed it. Beijing, the great city they went to shop and dine and visit their mother's sister in—her three boys just a little older than them. This thing so great, so foreign, could not be fathomed.

With a flash, the sky beast gathered up the sky and the electricity until the world held still that second.

"Run." Liang's tiny voice echoed hollowly. His hand tightened on Jia-li's wrist. A heart beat more. "Run!"

He pulled hard and they ran. They waded through the little stream, trampled the soft dirt beyond. Ran and ran without one glance back. Hands wrapped around each other's with a strength rarely seen in children, except the ones who had seen horror and these two had seen it. It would come after them, but they at least had legs to run. Those who did not have legs got left behind.

Forgotten on the riverbank, one little rabbit lay as it started to rain.


	2. Chapter 1 (America)

Alfred hunched over in the half light, his eyes glued to the flashing colors coming from his screen. He tilted hard to his left, bitting his lip. The screen went black suddenly and his mouth fell open as red words signaled _Game Over. _Rather than throwing up his arms or whining at the controller like usual, he just pouted and dropped his chin on top of his knees. His pout grew deeper with each second and the screen kept flashing the same two words over again. He didn't bother to hit the start button, but he didn't drop the controller and turn the game off either. Alone in the dark, he couldn't help but huddle in closer to himself.

Stupid, Kiku. Alfred worked too hard today for a game he couldn't figure out. Japan always had the coolest toys, but sometimes hard mode was just too hard. He should give up and shower before bed. It was all he thought about during the grueling meeting he had with the president today. His toes curled into the thick rug as his shoulders sunk lower. Five hours of being chewed into a spot of gum on the floor made even America feel small. None of it had even been his fault, but the pres needed to let loose about the world's state to someone. Naturally, Alfred volunteered to listen before he learned what he volunteered for.

The clock ticked far too loud for the state of the art home Alfred lived in. He heard each _tick_, _tock_ like hammer falls echoing on the wooden floors. His grip tightened imperceptibly on the controller. Maybe he should just call Kiku and ask for the cheat codes. It was nine in the morning there wasn't it? Alfred prided himself on knowing someone else's timezone if only because he called Kiku at random hours to play and his boss hit him on the head more than a dozen hundred times to memorize useless things. A computer could tell him if he needed to ask! Alfred finally relaxed his nails from their place dug into the hard plastic of the controller. His lips lost their tightness, a hopeful look daring to emerge.

Just as Alfred reached for his phone, a rumble sounded outside. His gut twisted and his body tensed up all over again. He swallowed hard, trying not to believe this was a familiar noise, like how buildings sounded when they tumbled. The rumble ended with a whip of lightning so he let out a sigh. He couldn't quite relax though. He hated how he got when left alone on a bad day. Alfred hated to be alone. "Alright, I'll just call Kiku and forget all about this!" Alfred snatched up his device and clicked to a new game as he dialed his friend. A melody drifted out of the game. Alfred smiled and dropped back against the pile of bean bags set out on his floor.

One ring. Two. The sky let loose a roar. Alfred slowly lifted his head to stare. He didn't hear if Kiku picked up, didn't notice his phone tumbling down as he blinked slowly. "The...sky..." Wind ripped through his home and tore the throw blanket off his couch. The photo of him and Mattie clattered to the floor. Figurines on the hall table teetered, but did not fall whereas the mirror opposite them shattered into a million pieces. The bits of glass rained down into Alfred's lap as if they belonged there. But shattered mirrors didn't belong there. He stared down, then slowly raised his head toward the growing thunder. Where his roof should have been, heavy clouds served as the ceiling.

Everything snapped and suddenly Alfred spun into a frenzy of motion. He ducked out of the way just as something tumbled down toward him. Was that seriously part of his roof? No time to think about that. He dived for the hall, half crouched down with an arm thrown up to protect his eyes from the debris soaked air. What the hell was going on? He snatched his gun from the drawer and loaded the clip as he ran. A voice in the back of his head laughed, saying this little Glock wouldn't do a thing against bombs or rouge planes. When he stepped outside though, even another terrorist attack sounded peachy. His knees buckled. He grabbed his mail box—still miraculously standing—and barely managed to stay standing himself.

God, it felt so _wrong. _"Boss!" The cry ripped itself from Alfred's throat like something feral and alive. Rage and panic pushed back the sick cold that settled in his stomach, let him run through the chaotic streets with one destination in mind. He hadn't felt this way in so long; had he ever? The sky. The _city. _If Alfred stopped moving, he'd be choking back tears. He smelled the dead, heard them, saw them, felt them. He was America so he didn't need to see it to know. His people dead and in their land. Not since 9/11 and even then, it didn't feel like this. So, so _wrong_.

Alfred leapt over a mass of rebar and concrete. From the top of it, he could scan the Washington D.C. skyline above the heads of his screaming citizens. Some ran into the streets, but most ran away. He had to steel himself not to run to his people now and become part of that chaos. Cars stalled in the roads, or parts of buildings blocked the way. He tried not to stare at the gaping holes in his skyline where there should have been buildings. This city didn't grow to the heavens like many others of his. No, this city grew green and supple with the buildings artfully placed. Yellow now flashed in front of his eyes instead of green. Another roll of thunder washed over him before the heavens opened up. Instead of water, metal and lightning rained down

The electricity gathered into a single massive ray that shot downwards, downwards and east. This time, Alfred's heart stopped. His eyes latched onto the obelisk of the Washington monument. It pierced the clouds that obscured even the smallest patches of sky and light. The scene unfolded perfectly, almost beautifully. With a single curving bolt, the lightning struck the monument in the middle. Stone walls gave and the beam sliced right through. Streams of rock careened into the sky before slowly, ever so slowly, the top of the obelisk slid off.

"God, _please _no! Please!" He started running again. Glass cut into his bare feet, but he didn't care. He tripped into a sheet of twisted metal and he still didn't care. He picked himself up and started running as if nothing happened. He almost made it to the white house when suit-clad agents blocked his path.

"It's Alfred! Quick, somebody grab him!"

"No! I have to find the president!" Strong arms grabbed him around the middle. Another set grabbed the fist he formed. "I have to...no! Let me go!" Alfred screamed as he wrenched hard at his captors, but more secret service agents just grabbed hold and started dragging him away.

"I'm sorry, but you have to come with us. Don't worry about the president. He's been dealt with. We need to get you to safety!"

He struggled with the agents the entire way to the backside of the white house and to the bolted door. He couldn't think rationally. He just knew he needed to see the president. It didn't matter if they said he was safe; Alfred needed to see it with his own eyes. He continued struggling all the way inside and down a steep flight of concrete stairs. It took until they reached the bottom for his continued murmuring to sound insane even to him.

Alfred took a deep breath and looked around. He started following rather than being dragged. The agents sensed the change and loosened their grip, but two kept to his sides, their hands still insistent on his arms. Before long, they slipped past a bulkhead into a harshly lit space. If Alfred kept his wits about him, he'd know they entered one of the underground hiding places. He didn't care where they were going though. One man shoved him inside a room.

"Stay here! We're going to check the perimeter. Grieves will stay outside okay. You won't cause more trouble?" the shortest man asked. Why were the short ones always in charge? Alfred just nodded his head. A second later, the door slammed in his face. He fell to the floor. Dusty metal tables, radar, old things he forgot he once used littered the floor. Was this a storage room? One of his bosses created a shelter like that right? A place to run to if the white house—god forbid—got attacked. It had.

Alfred's mind jumped back into full panic the second the agents left. He had to know if they were okay. _Everyone._ But no one was here. He wrapped his arms around his legs and when he pulled them away, his arms were sticky with blood. He was injured? Alfred just tilted his head back and laughed. God, he needed his phone. A lump dropped down through all his intestines and sat there growing. What if this...this..._whatever _attacked more than America? He felt sick not knowing. Pulling himself up by the edge of the table, his eyes lighted on an old phone hooked up and waiting. Without thinking, he dialed his brother's number.

"M-mattie bro. Are you okay? The attack and oh god, please say you're okay!" Alfred jumbled so fast he barely got the words out over his beating heart. His leg throbbed and so did his head. How could it hurt so much?

"Al...Al.. Alfred!" The shock of his name screaming in his ear finally knocked the American back into reality. His breath came in rapid bursts, loud enough to be heard all the way in Canada without a phone connection. Not loud enough to drown out his brother's reply though. "I'm fine! Tell me what's going on? They're saying Washington got attacked?"

Alfred stared blankly at a white washed wall as he listened to his brother's voice reach a volume he had not heard in years. He was having a hard time comprehending it. All he could think was Mattie is alive, wonderful and chatty and alive. "Al? Are _you_ okay?" Matthew asked, his voice dropping low with concern.

Ten heartbeats passed. Okay? Okay?! A six inch gash cut across his calf and he didn't know how he got it. Blood—not his—flaked under his nails. Some half-cocked secret service agent locked him in this basement with nothing but expired technology and a phone. And then they left him, alone in the dark! His people were dying, dead, and he could _hear_ their screams exploding in his head. Every bone in his body creaked with the fatigues of a war he didn't know he joined. What enemy did this? He didn't even know that much.

He noticed his trembling first. Alfred made a conscious effort to still the rattling of his fingers on the ancient phone receiver. One deep breath in and his heroic smile fell into place, false as could be. "Oh don't you worry about me. I'm America! I can handle a little war. You know that." He thought he did a fair job with his confidence because Mattie sighed. A relieved sigh of course. Alfred was a hero and he wouldn't stop now, even with war on his land. This was the job of super powers: to protect smaller nations.

Alfred's heart stopped dead there. Russia. Thoughts of the other super power filled his head so that he gripped the phone with new vigor. "Mattie!" He cut off his brother's quiet drivel. Matthew squeaked and something clattered on the other line. Alfred couldn't concern himself with him now though. "Ivan! I-I've got to go to him. If I was attacked, then h-he–"

"No!" The roar stunned Alfred back onto his bottom when he tried to struggle up.

"Mattie? Why?"

The exasperated sigh said it all. "I'll call him for you. Al... Take care of yourself first. Have you listened to a thing I've said?"

Alfred blinked slowly. He had to admit, he hadn't heard a word. Hell, he barely registered the moments when Matthew did speak. Alfred's shoulders slumped. He dropped his head back against the metal table leg and nodded numbly. "...Okay. Call me later then. It's a bit..." He garbled the word _lonely_ against the receiver. "...in here alone."

"I will, brother. You just hang tight."

If Matthew kept talking, Alfred didn't know because the phone slipped into his lap where it lay forgotten. The room fuzzed out in front of his eyes. He lay there, staring, breathing, and listening to the drone of the improperly hung phone.

xXx

"You're such an idiot, Al. You don't have to be the hero all the time. Some if us wouldn't mind being your hero...ah really, you've already gone haven't you?" It wasn't like Alfred listened to the first half of this lecture either. No matter how many times Matthew said it, no matter when, Alfred would just go deaf. Nothing to be done now. He moved from the desk where he'd jumped to answer his brother's call. Staring out a window, he saw people running. Far to the south, he knew a dark cloud rose from America's ruined city. The news droned downstairs from a tv set. He didn't listen because even now he didn't believe it.

Aliens they said. They came in ships that let loose storm clouds unlike anything natural to earth and then that lightning flashed down. Matthew wished he'd seen it, just so he could know his brother's pain. But a deep selfish part of him thanked the lord he was so invisible and he hadn't been attacked, and he hoped he never would. Did Alfred see the creatures fly out of their mother ship and descend with terror to the city? He heard the report on it during the call. Did he see the fires? The bloodbath? Those winged things may soon invade Canadian skies but as long as their ships didn't call down the lightning...

Matthew shook his head so hard his glasses nearly flew off his face. After setting the coffee on (and trying not to feel guilty he had such luxuries), he sat down at the kitchen table. He forced himself to breathe in and out for a minute before he picked up his cell again. Alfred was stubborn, but he was alright wasn't he? No, he wasn't. That was exactly why Matthew had to call Ivan.

Each ring sung out too long. Hopefully the older nation would answer since when it came to Alfred, Ivan could deal better with this broken side than anyone else. In the past, Matthew may have doubted Ivan's integrity, but his brother's boyfriend was a part of the family now. A part that Matthew very much needed the help of.

"Alfred?!" The panicked voice picked up sooner than he expected. Matthew barely composed himself before responding.

"A-ah sorry...this is Matthew um...about that, Ivan..." he stumbled along, the usual meek voice coming out even with a person who saw him most of the time.

"Matthew? Oh..." The other man's voice instantly deflated. Matthew winced even when Ivan quickly recovered his energy. "Have you talked to Alfred? Is he alright?"

Taking in a few deep breaths, Matthew answered. "I have. That's why I called. Oh Ivan, I don't know what to do!" Suddenly, he couldn't hold himself together any longer. His lip trembled and he threw himself into the arms of his stuffed bear. He allowed himself no more luxury than that though because he could have sworn he _heard_ the Russian's vision go red. "He says he's fine, but he's not! You know him. Al...sounded so alone and I think he's going into shock. He'll always pretend to be strong in front of me, but you..."

Matthew hated that he couldn't ever be strong for his brother, but he could barely be strong for himself. Alfred always protected him. Matthew was a man though. He also wanted to protect the things important to him when they were hurting. Tears pulled at his eyes, but he refused to cry with Ivan on the phone. _This isn't the time for pitying yourself, so buck up!_ he chided himself.

"I understand what you're asking. How could anyone leave him alone when he's like this?!"

"Thank you," Matthew breathed out with a sigh. Ivan could be with Alfred, so everything would be okay. None of them should be alone now. He was alone here, but he only had his brother and his people. He'd make do with them. But didn't Ivan also have people he would be leaving alone? The realization smacked Matthew in the forehead, until he discovered that was his palm smacking him there. Ivan must not have heard it though because he kept on talking. How could they both be so selfish?

"...Ivan..."

"I can be there in...can I catch a flight at a time like this? The helicopter then. Hell, if I have to steal a ride from someone, then I will. Alfred...damn it Al! If anything happens to him I swear–!"

"Ivan!" Matthew's scream cut a swath of silence between the two countries. He startled at the grip he had on Kumijiro, nearly popping the poor bear's head off. Matthew swore he saw a wince on the stitched on face. He whispered a silent apology to him before breathing in deep and pleading with Ivan. "Please."

After a long silence, Ivan's numb voice filtered through the line. "I don't understand." The young nation might as well have hit him. "You don't want me to help? Then why'd you even call?!"

Matthew whimpered. "I'm s-sorry I shouldn't have called with such selfish intentions. I thought you could fix...maybe...no! Don't talk like this, Mattie. Say what you mean!" he exclaimed, talking to himself as much as the other man. Before Ivan could cut in, Matthew jumped up in his seat and paced as he lectured. "Ivan, you can't go running off to America like that. I told him the same thing about you. You have your country to worry about, just like me. And what about your sisters? Who will protect them? It's the job of a brother, s-so...let me protect Alfred."

A minute of silence clogged up the air. "You are right," Ivan admitted with a sigh. Matthew dropped heavily into his chair again, not expecting agreement. Neither of them liked it, but life as a nation could never be simple. "You will go to him?"

Matthew's blue-violet eyes went hard. "I won't."

"What?!" That red tinged tone was back in Ivan's voice, but Matthew didn't even flinch. "I do not like him being alone. He's America. This enemy that came from the sky will target him like no other country. Damn, why does he have to advertise himself as a hero?"

Matthew had nothing to say to that. He also wondered why. Why did Alfred have to outshine everyone? Arthur and Francis raised them to be humble, but Al got left alone too much—they both did—even if the lonesomeness turned them into very different people. Kumijiro smiled comfortingly. "Because we like that America. I won't go to him now, but I will do my best. Ivan, you push back the enemy in your lands and I will send soldiers south to Alfred. My people are stronger than other's think and I'll send them straight to my brother."

"Thank you." A silent whisper that barely reached Matthew. He only nodded in response. It took until now, but suddenly Ivan asked, "Are you alright? You said you have soldiers to spare?"

Matthew pulled on his hair in embarrassment. "They didn't even bother to hit me. I only heard about the story a minute before Alfred called. It's a bit...they say that ship is flying this way though." The tv chatter struck him with clarity.

_ '__Accounts are coming in from all over the world of such attacks. Little has been confirmed. No one knows to what extent the damage reaches. I'm sorry, Melissa is coming in with a report from Berlin which has fallen into communication silence...__'_

"I just assumed, but has Moscow been...?"

The smile in Ivan's voice sounded strained. "It's good the war hasn't come to you. The enemy has sense after all. But what else would you expect from an attack from space?" The Russian mused. "They did hit Moscow much like I expect they hit Washington with those damn spaceships."

A cry escaped Matthew. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Ivan. I should have asked from the start how you were!" He couldn't stop the wave of guilt from being the only one he knew not torn asunder by the aliens. He wasn't even worth a bother.

"Stop...Matthew. It's not so bad. I wasn't there, so really I'm fine. You tell Alfred that when you can. I was visiting with Kateryna actually and I've set up a headquarters with her. Russia has much land. There are still...many people left to fight."

Matthew didn't know what to make of that, but Russia always had different ideals than him when it came to war. "Okay...I'll tell him. A-and, I'm glad you weren't caught in the middle of it. You stay safe until they call a world meeting and I'll do the same. We'll figure this out." For once, Matthew felt as brave as the words he said. Ivan spoke back with the same confidence.

"The world will pull together against this. Until then, I leave Alfred in your hands. Good bye."

Matthew whispered back the farewell and then he was alone for the first time in hours. A smell sifted dully through Matthew's senses. It took him at least five minutes to comprehend and when he did, he just groaned and buried his face in his hands. "The coffee is useless now. I just want to sleep. Isn't this is so awful, Kumijiro?" he complained without looking up to the bear perched on his table.

Matthew moved with numb legs to turn off the coffee and pour himself a cup. He didn't notice his glasses sat crookedly or even when he burned his tongue. The hot bitter taste set his mind on fire though and forced in the needed energy to get his duties done. Oh lord he didn't want to think about these things, but he reached for his phone again. The only thing worse than playing mother was playing hero. "Yes...hello, boss. I'm sorry. I should have been available...yes, I understand. About America..."


	3. Chapter 2 (France)

The phone on Francis' bed side table trilled and shrieked. He rolled over, throwing an arm on top of his face. What time was it? He refused to open his eyes to check such a thing because it was surely too late for anyone to call him. His government be damned. England be damned, even if he called to profess his undying love (which would never happen). The whole world be damned.

Barely after his phone stopped ringing, it started again. Francis clasped a pillow to groan into. Why should he suffer with consciousness? His entire body ached and the insides of his mouth tasted like ash. The phone shrieked again.

"Mon deu, I need my beauty sleep!" he cried as he snatched the device up. His words died immediately. He lay there, mouth gaping open as he struggled to breathe. Now fully awake, he realized he was in pain. Really realized it. Barely breathing, his heart barely beating, Francis answered the phone.

Panicked words filtered into his brain and out. He _felt _the situation, but he didn't understand the words being spoken to him. "Où?...non..." He whispered the word over and over. No, it couldn't be so. He knew it was, but it couldn't. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he listened to the voice explain how his capitol came under attack ten minutes ago, struck with some sort of high tech weapon out of the sky. But really, they didn't know a thing. They hesitated to even call it an attack. A disaster maybe. A storm of the century like those from one of the other planets in their system. Francis almost hoped an enemy did this because he could not punish a storm.

_Paris, my beautiful Paris. You did not deserve this._

"You must reach our allies, Mr. Bonnefoy. We'll send som-"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot do that," Francis interrupted the caller. They had no right to order him. "I will not stay away from my city!"

"But Francis–! Leave Paris to the military. You're of more use elsewhere!" the voice exclaimed. Who was this guy anyway? For the life of him, Francis couldn't remember what important person called. He couldn't bring himself to care. He swung his legs over the bed and already had his shirt on before the man finished stuttering.

"Non." He pulled his boots out of the wardrobe and put them on with one hand. His tears never stopped, but his voice stayed strong. To the other on the phone, Francis must have sounded the same as he did in the old days when he rode into battle with his people. Now the governments preferred their countries to hide behind desks as if they were fragile when history said they were everything but. Francis knew those days passed long ago, but he could still fight.

"I refuse to hide. I am France and I may not be a hero, but I will protect those things most precious to me!" The words echoed in his empty foyer, unchallenged. He snapped the phone shut and swept a blue coat over his shoulders. It would rain tonight, even if water never fell from the sky.

Francis rested against the door, his blonde waves drifting in the breeze. The southwesterly wind brought the smell of blood and fire. He dialed as he walked out of his home in Versailles, only a scant hop from the capital. He supposed he should give praise he didn't keep his home there, but he wished to feel his people's pain in the same way they did. Despite the warnings, he took his car and headed down the winding road to Paris. The entire while, he chewed on his nails and answered phone calls until the information became too depressing and the warnings too irritating. They made him want to pull out fistfuls of his glorious golden locks and eat them. Finally, he stopped answering the calls of his people altogether.

Forty minutes later, Francis pulled to a screeching stop. "Merde!" He stared up at the sky above a chasm in the road, unable to come up with any other word. His mind blanked. A second later, he rushed out of his car, running and leaping over the damaged road and into Paris proper. Despite the darkness that hid so much from his eyes, he could see the ruin. This was not his city. His city wasn't this dark and bright in all the wrong places. No lightning forked in the sky. No rain either. The storm passed on long ago, but strange blue orbs of light floated above. Some whizzed by with speeds nearly rivaling the one he drove here at. They swooped and arched, moving like hundreds of bright colored fish in a tank. Tiny planes? So very many of them clogged his skies, moving like living rather than mechanical things.

He trained his gun on one, trying to track the movements for at least five minutes before he gave up. He didn't know what he was shooting at even if he did manage to catch one. A wail turned his attention away. As if waking slowly to the situation that was Paris, screams that were always there finally reached his ears. He knew it now. He didn't enter a disaster zone—he entered a war zone.

Again, Francis' phone whipped out as he navigated with care. He kept his eyes on the shadows between the buildings as his phone rang. "Sir! Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?!" the minister of defense answered immediately. Finally, Francis could hear this from all the way at the top.

"You could have said the city was overrun." Dead serious tone. Everything about Francis exuded seriousness. The rareness of such a thing gave it more gravity.

"That's what we've been trying to tell you! Something came down from the sky after the storm passed. It's an army of…of we don't really know!" Past the point of breathing ragged, the minister managed to calm only enough to be understood. "I pray fervently you did _not _run to Paris!" The emphasis on the one word showed how much he doubted it. They both knew exactly where Francis was.

"Sorry." He wasn't though.

"Fine. Whatever. Since you're here, try to get to the communications array and contact the other countries. The way is impassable from my direction. Due to the silence from our allies, I'm afraid this attack is not just for us," the man continued as Francis reached a bridge. He ducked under it and tried to calm himself. His heart assaulted his brain from all directions. Not just his country. It couldn't be that the ones he most wanted to protect lay dying now? His head swam. His sweaty palms flexed against his legs.

"I...I understand. I'll do my best, sir. I also...need to know." Francis hesitated over his words, finding them hard to get out past his dry throat. The second he hung up with the minister of defense, he dialed Arthur's number.

Barely two rings made it through before a voice rattled him. "Francis, bloody git! Why are ya calling me at this hour?!" the Brit snapped through the line, his voice thick with sleepiness. Francis breathed out a sigh of relief and started moving again.

Soldiers patrolled the streets, ushering citizen's into safe-houses and for now, the sound of gunshots rung only in the distance. "You're fine?" Francis nearly crashed into a young woman, both of them letting out a small noise. He recoiled as she reached out with something not like an arm. Red streaked the shoulder all the way down to where the elbow should be. Instead, arm bone stuck out with red meaty tendrils twisting around it.

"Of course I am. What kind of reason is that to..." The voice in Francis' ear faded out. A wind swept past him and something snatched the woman right off the ground. Claws flashed in the glare of floodlights. By the time Francis reached out, her scream cut off in a sickening snap.

"Francis? Francis I hear screaming in the background. Why do I hear screaming?!" The man's voice rose almost to a yell and Francis' heart squeezed. He wanted to be in the smaller man's arms right now. He wanted to bury his face in that course blonde hair and be hugged back. The thought nearly made him laugh. Arthur would more likely punch him than allow such a thing. Francis' love traveled purely one way.

Drying his tears with a loud sniffle, Francis forced himself to keep walking without searching the skies though he wanted to again and again. "I'll explain, but tell me you're not in London. If you are, get out!" Soon, he came to a public square covered heavily in rubble. He knew where he was now despite the ruined landscape and crouched under a broken archway. One graceful curve sat in the middle of the underpass where it now offered shelter. He tried not to think about what the arch once was. An angelic face watched him from out of fragmented rock. The face once shone in victory on the outside of his majestic arch. Victory, triumph. Now it served only to remind him how fleeting those things were.

"I don't understand. Tell me what's going on over there! I'm not going to leave London just because you say so."

Why did Arthur have to be so damn difficult all the time? Francis growled in frustration. He was going to get killed because of that stubborn attitude. And suddenly Francis' hands were trembling, his lungs struggling for air. _Don__'__t let anything happen to him. You can__'__t. Can__'__t. _If he saw Arthur get hurt one more time, he wouldn't live through it. _Why do you think I stopped fighting with you, Angleterre? My stomach would bottom out at the sight of your blood. I__'__m sorry, but I can never tell you this, so please. _"Please listen to me...please."

Arthur swallowed loud enough that Francis heard it. "O-okay! Geez you. I'm on my way out now. Just let me gather a few things and call the car. Should I be evacuating the city?" The man sounded like a force to be reckoned with. Despite the waver at the start of his speech, Arthur sounded so in control. Francis didn't feel in control at all.

"That would be wise," he whispered. In fact, he felt faint. A howling screech filled the sky and Francis ducked down beneath the tumbled top of the Arch de Triomphe. Gravel exploded around his head, piercing his right arm. Just when he thought it was over, a shape blocked the patch of grey sky visible from his hiding place. A gentle blue light pulsed and Francis poked his head out cautiously. The next screech split his ears. "Shit."

"Francis? Francis!" The phone fell forgotten as the enemy shifted out from directly in front of the moon. He saw exactly what it was. Knobby dark grey legs bent backwards like those of a wild animal. Something silver and heavy looking encased the feet...and those feet. They didn't sit quite on the ground, but at least four inches off of it. Suddenly the creature bent down and stared him right in the eye, except, it had no eyes itself. Its face elongated out in a slight snout, gouges lining the face as if an angry sculptor dragged his fingers down the length from ear tips to fangs which poked out over the bottom lip. Saliva dripped from them. Pairs of black slits fluttered where eyes should have been.

"Merde! I should have stayed out of Paris!" His gun shot up and he fired with both his hands clenched white-knuckled on the grip. The creature staggered back, screamed. The bullets bounced off its leathery chest with a sound like hitting kevlar. Francis kept shooting as he scooted farther away on his butt. Kept shooting and shooting until one bullet slid up under the monster's chin. The thing crumpled to the ground and the blue light vanished. Out of bullets, Francis put a new clip in with unfocused movements. He knew he could never have ignored Paris. Even if he had to put himself in danger, he had to see this enemy himself. He'd had enough of this though. Monsters were everywhere and he hated to admit he was scared, but he was hiding. Being scared was a given.

Francis picked up his phone with trembling fingers. His brain barely registered the continued shrill sounds from the other side. "I'm sorry, but I have to go now. Be safe. I-I...for you...Never mind." He hung up in the middle of his whispers and hung his head. Arthur might make fun of him later, but all Francis wanted to do was crawl under the concrete and cower. Instead, he made a mad dive out from the rubble and took off for the far side of Paris. The sound of his phone ringing once again went unnoticed.

He'd run right through the center of his city if he had to and fight everything along the way. And when he was finally through, he would run to the Straight of Dover and scream over it for Arthur to hear. Francis laughed at himself. Even for the country of love, that sounded like pathetic pining. He'd be damned if war ruined his one great chance at romance though. He'd see Arthur even if it had to be a country apart.

xXx

Arthur cursed at his phone with all the creativity he could come up with. And when he ran out of words, he just punched the wall. "That damn Francis! I'll come over there and strangle you if I have to!" he snapped as he finished packing an overnight bag. He already ordered the city to evacuate. The military rushed into the air where they scoured for this enemy. He didn't know what he looked for yet. Francis never said. No, he just went all macho hero and he probably got himself killed in the process. Arthur would stomp over to France just so he could kick the man's corpse in the face.

Not that he cared about Francis or anything, but what was it Francis once said to him? It wasn't a desirable relationship they had, but a necessary one. If they didn't have each other, they wouldn't know what to do. To think of a France without England or an England without France—Arthur couldn't even begin to contemplate such a thing. So if his head was in a daze, it wasn't his fault at all.

Just after he pulled out of his driveway, his phone trilled again. "Francis!" he snapped at the screen, ready to answer the call with scathing words. But his heart stopped. Horns blared; he barely avoided a mailbox as he corrected his driving. He shoved his hand out the window, his middle finger prominently displayed. "Fuck off, losers!" Not that the other car he sent screeching to a stop was at fault. Arthur needed to focus on driving as much as it drove him crazy. Crazy because the text he just received was most definitely not from Francis.

Cursing, Arthur left his London home and joined the line of cars leaving the city. The taillights colored the night scene red. A drizzle fell softly, so soft you could hardly call it rain. It hesitated on the line between rain and fog, not that Arthur found the weather surprising. He'd hardly call this dreary. In fact, this mist turned every object in his land into something magical and energy filled, as if unknown spirits left the morning dew for him. Once the traffic slowed into that of follow the leader, he turned his eyes away from the sea of lights to his phone.

The contact name flashed in tiny print: _Matthew Williams. _Mattie? Why was he texting? Arthur's stomach clenched. Was he in trouble too? Although Matthew was never his favorite child, he cared for the quiet boy who reminded him of his precious Alfred. The cars stalled near Heathrow airport, so Arthur opened the text.

_'__Hey this message is from me and Al. Just wanted to know if you__'__re okay. Couldn__'__t get ahold of Francis. America and Russia got attacked by aliens. Don__'__t know who else. Txt back k.__'_

"Hell," Arthur snapped under his breath. No clever words this time. He didn't have the mind to come up with any. Aliens? His nails bit deep into the plastic of his phone and he had half a mind to chuck it all the way to America and into Alfred's head. Aliens didn't exist! They were a dumb delusion Alfred had since his early years and now he'd dragged poor Matthew into the delusion. Except, Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to be angry or disbelieve it. His grip loosened and he started tapping out a reply. He wanted to laugh—because aliens made a lot more sense than anything else right now.

_'__Francis called earlier. I don__'__t think he__'__s dead. I__'__m fine. Evacuating now. Keep safe and send Al my love.__' _The message sent with a little ding just as the car line picked up its pace. They crept toward the countryside where they hoped they would be safe. If aliens did this though, Arthur could only hope. London may be the one target now, but the enemy wouldn't stop. It would march on until it took the country, and then the next, and the next until even one continent grew too small. He knew because this is what armies were. He'd been there too much not to know.

These and many more thoughts swirled in Arthur's mind as he drove. Now that he knew more information, he regretted packing up and running like this. He should have been with his military and his government. He did promise Francis though. Arthur tapped his fingernails on the driving wheel. He could of course, say to hell with that. Francis wouldn't know and he'd hardly care if he'd gotten himself killed. Arthur just sighed. Even if he should do that, he'd never break a promise to the normally irritating man like this. Arthur was too much of a gentleman and he wanted to kick himself in the arse for it, but he'd run away for now because Francis said please.

When he reached the city limits, he pulled to the side and parked by the military vehicle surveying the evacuation. "Hey you! What's the situation?" Arthur called as he rolled down his window.

"They city's about half evacuated now, sir. Just need to finish here and then the fifth sector. So far nothing's happened. Are you sure we should be on red alert? We've got confirmation of attacks on America, Germany, and France, but who's to say they're coming here next?"

One of Arthur's abnormally bushy eyebrows twitched. His hand shot out the window and grabbed the officer by his too starched shirt collar. "Who's to say? _Who__'__s to say?_ Maybe bloody because you can almost throw a stone between France and England! Or maybe because I freakin told you so, useless sod!" he snapped before letting go. He sat back in his seat, fixing his cuffs in a show of gentlemanly behavior. They didn't know what they were dealing with here. By now, they just knew this wasn't a tiny scare. This was war. Militaries worldwide cried out over the airwaves, pleading for help. _SOS. Retreat. Dear god, save our souls! _Arthur didn't need to hear the communication feeds to know this. He saw it on the officer's face. They were all scared to death.

For a second, Arthur hesitated to drive on. Thunder rumbled somewhere just east of the city. "I'm sorry sir, but we need everyone out of London. That includes you," the man spoke. He didn't bark. No, his voice held softness as he looked up at the sky. Perhaps fear made him that way. The human life span was so fickle compared to that of countries. Arthur thought, this man had a reason to fear. Whatever would come from the sky would be unlike anything any country had seen in its lifespan. He could only hope, the storm would pass over quickly.

And then he was stepping on the gas again, hurrying after the trail of climbing cars.

xXx

The waters of the straight whipped about in great white-topped waves as if the strong wind intended to rip them straight out of the channel. Blood dripped into Francis' eye and he brushed it away without blinking. His head didn't hurt, just bled a little. He came as quick as he could and now what? He had no way to cross here. If he tried to swim, he'd just die like a rash idiot and he really didn't want that to be his legacy. After the communication center crumbled moments after he sent the SOS, he came here.

Suddenly, Francis fell into a fit of laughter. The noise burst out of him to join with the growing thunder. It was just so damn funny. He fought his way here like a madman and now he planned to just stand here. For five, maybe ten minutes, he just stood there and laughed. As abruptly as it came though, his laughter died. He closed his mouth and started searching for a way across. A particularly horrid sound forced him to look up again.

Glowing shapes emerged out of the dark cover far in the distance, but not so far he could pretend they didn't exist. Past the white cliffs and the rolling countryside with its gentle rain, the lights traveled farther away from him. A raindrop touched down lightly and made the blood run into his eyes again. But Francis didn't care about that. He saw brilliant flashes across the channel. The lightning flashed with more frequency until it wasn't lightning anymore. It gathered together into a dancing beam wider than the widest bolt, then shot down. His eyes widened as a cry ripped out of his throat.

"Arthur!"

Strike after strike, the electricity attacked. And when it felt like there must be no more lightning left to call down, the sky went dark again.

For a minute, nothing changed. He feared too much to hope. The dust clouds continued to rise into a black plume that blocked out the stars and even the brightly shining full moon. An identical plume to the one rising over Paris. Soft yellow light spread across the black, illuminating a metallic surface inside it. From out of the lit space, a black army escaped. They spiraled against the artificial sun, ever downward. They moved like giant bats, but knew they weren't. Ancient demons then. They swooped down to a hidden destination he knew to be London as more and more creatures came from the sky and circled.

"No...please tell me he..." Francis remembered his pocketed phone. The thing jumped into his hands. Dialing. The lone ring, then suddenly the line went dead. Just like that, the world went dark and quiet. So very, very quiet.

Francis fell to his knees with unblinking eyes. Couldn't blink, couldn't look away. Even when tears streamed unchecked from his eyes, he never looked away from the chaos he saw rising far away at London. So much destruction. Could anyone survive that? He needed to go to his love. He needed to know, did the warning come in time? "Arthur...my beloved Arthur..." A sob shook his body even as he decided. He needed to go to him. He needed to be with Arthur tonight.

**xxx**

**(AN: As you can guess by now, this story will be switching between the pov's of various countries. My five main pairings will cycle with the others mixed in. Each chapter will be labeled as such. The pace is a little slow in the first cycle, but try to stick with me, kay? It picks up, I swear)**


	4. Chapter 3 (Asia)

Japan was lucky. Kiku couldn't help but think that as he hurried down the hall from one meeting to another. Any second now, the attack would come. He'd lived long enough to expect that. Being on the phone with Alfred served as a sign as well as a gift. He guessed he should feel bad calling his friend's pain a gift. Hearing the roar so much like a formation of bombers passing overhead sent Kiku into a panic at the time. He didn't hear Alfred scream. He'd screamed himself though. Screamed and screamed his friend's name, but the strong youth never answered back and the call never cut out, only filled more with the sounds of destruction. If Kiku didn't trust in America's strength so much, he'd fear he just witnessed his friend's death.

As it was, he could only take the fact that Alfred called as the will of ancient gods. The sign said surely they meant him to hear the warning so he could protect his own country. His family also felt the burn of the attack he learned soon after the fated call. Beijing, so much closer than Washington DC, burned with the smoke of a million fires. And soon…soon him as well. He knew it.

"Good evening, sirs," Kiku called as he entered a conference room. He bowed once before hurrying to the front. "I hope we can agree quickly on a defense plan. It's already been…" He glanced at the set of digital clocks with various world times. "…forty-five minutes since the attack on America. I assume we cannot rely on our allies for this?"

"I doubt it, sir," a middle aged man answered the question. "Everything we've seen and heard so far confirms that the aggressor is from outer space and they've already attacked many of the strong countries. Mr. Takashi has been formulating a plan based on what we know."

Takashi cleared his throat and stood up when the other man gestured to him. Kiku took a seat just as Takashi picked up a marker and started scribbling on the white board. "Alright, so besides being aliens, we know they came in large space craft and they do not appear to have smaller vessels, only the aliens themselves. Machine guns and other lighter rounds have had no luck so far, even the guided missiles from what I hear from England. We can't make heads or tails of the reports though so let's not rule anything out. Half of what one country says contradicts another. With that in mind, we needed to do our best to be offensive. A defense won't help us when we have to fight alone. If we take out the ship, the army will be manageable. They're not even using guns!"

All the while, the man illustrated information on the board. Kiku watched with a critical eye, his hands steepled in front of him. In the room of middle aged and older men, he looked out of place. His people had a way of looking young, but he could have joined a university and no one would blink twice if they didn't look into his eyes. He'd seen so many more lifetimes than these men and it showed on his face. It was this reason that every countryman of his lowered their eyes in respect when he nodded. "Indeed. They are a strange enemy," Kiku commented. "But that is not important. Are the planes already in the air? We need those ships in position before eleven."

A slow glance took in the faces of all those present. "Yes sir!" multiple answered. "Thanks to this warning we're almost ready for the assault. General Hirosha reports that things are almost ready on his side. We just need to give the signal."

Conversation continued for another ten minutes, but at this point, it was all formality and fine-tuning. Japan never moved this quick to make decisions and fly into action. Kiku felt a swell of pride for his people. He feared they would still be talking by the time the attack came, but today they surprised him. Today they finished talking with ample time left for action. Kiku pushed back his chair and bowed to the gentleman once more. "From here on out we wait. We must attack on our terms because on our terms we will win." The confident words came from his soul where fighting spirit and honor still burned beneath the video games and luxury cars. The Japanese had the favor of gods and the spirit of them. Win or lose. Let it never be said that they would not try and even die for this Japanese spirit. Too few days did Kiku believe that old way with all his heart. His people needed a reminder that they once knew how to fight.

Just before Kiku could excuse the room, his cell buzzed in his pocket. Mentally he cursed himself for forgetting to silence it. "Excuse me," he muttered before ducking out to answer. Instantly, hurried words assaulted him, mixing English, Korean, and Japanese into nonsense. At first, he just stood in shock, his small body rigid. Surprise and confusion faded to understanding.

"Youngsoo?" Kiku questioned. For the first time in years, something besides irritation buzzed through when hearing his younger cousin's voice. He could say without a doubt he didn't expect him to call. This person did not sound like the Youngsoo though. Not the one who pretended to be older and smarter without any common sense whatsoever. Kiku breathed slowly before he tried to get a word in, not an easy feat. "Slow down. I can't understand a thing you're saying." He didn't think his words got through but after a few painful sounding breaths, Youngsoo stopped shrieking outright.

"Ki...Ki...it's...Kiku, it's been moving. Called to warn you about…Holy shit, I can see it from my window! And Yao, omg did you see what it did to Beijing?!" And that's where sanity fell apart again. A deep throated rumble filled the line for ten terrible seconds. "I don't wanna die too young to die Kiku! I-it's coming for us! Planes, guns, why don't we have nukes?! But shoot the damn thing down NOW!" Youngsoo screamed.

Kiku winced. Finding an empty conference room, he fell into a chair and rubbed his face. Too many emotions raced through him, but other than the weary tilt of his shoulders, nothing showed. At least he had privacy for his call now. He knew the 'it' Youngsoo spoke of without being told. What would the alien ship look like over Korea? Something that big…its shadow could blanket half a little country. What would it look like over Japan? For the first time since he heard Alfred scream, anxiety settled over Kiku's shoulders.

"Oppa." The word he would never dare call Youngsoo in his presence came out heavy now and very needed. It cleared the air between them. _Don__'__t be hurt. _No matter what tension existed between the two of them, Kiku could never turn his back on family. He knew without a doubt Youngsoo felt the same. So he would call him 'older brother' if he needed to now. _Didn__'__t you phone specially to warn me? Even though you__'__re afraid and still young, finally, finally remembering you__'__re young. _And in that moment, Kiku straightened his back and schooled his face into that of an elder. "Listen to me, you're strong. Don't you always tell me this and that originate in your house? Now act like it! If you're going to fight, then fight! If not, run," he ordered. The idea of running sent a shiver down Kiku's spine. He had to assure himself that this was the right thing to do.

"Um…I can't run since I have someone to protect even if he doesn't want it. Hyung is preparing to attack, which is pretty stupid. Maybe his jets won't get off the ground…?"

Kiku's brows pulled together ever so slightly. "Is that so? Yes…of course he is." Hyungsoo read books, played music, and smiled like a calm, sane person. Where did that boy go? Of course Kiku knew times changed, governments trickled by with a few eye blinks. It wouldn't do to be attached to stillness in an ever changing world, though sometimes he wished he could drag them all back to the languid pace of the past. After a second, Kiku forced his emotions back down again where they belonged inside his hollow places. "Then you must do what you have to."

There were no other words to offer. Youngsoo must have sensed this because he didn't try to protest. A semblance of sanity returned to his voice, though Kiku imagined he nodded his head too hard. "I will, as I know you will. But Kiku, I don't think I'll live if that ship attacks me."

The extra five seconds of silence sounded far louder than Youngsoo's screaming. Then the Korean youth ended the call, leaving Kiku sitting far heavier than when the conversation started. _Sometimes I hate you, Youngsoo, _he nearly whispered. He even opened his mouth to say it, but in the end no sound came out. He couldn't say something not entirely the truth. Instead, Kiku snapped to his feet and strode out of the room, turning into the cold sharp edge of a blade once again.

He walked with the mission clear in his mind. Down the hall, into his office, and all without a single step faltering. Kiku picked up the secure phone line and barked an order. "Send the planes out." Electricity fizzled up Kiku's spine where he felt his people's shock. No reply came forthright. Finally, the charged silence ended with with a clatter and furious whispers. One voice cut through all of that.

"Sir…now? But-"

"Just do it!" Kiku's hand curled into the wood edge of his desk, his dark eyes clouding. He already made the decision and he would not unmake it, ever. "Draw the ship's attention and lure it to the designated spot. This is _our _fight. Do you understand?"

The man didn't, but he nodded anyway. "The message will be sent now." He dipped his head in a curt nod before hanging up the phone. Kiku allowed himself five seconds of cooling time before he strode out of the room. The office would not do for him. He needed to be in the board rooms with his generals, looking the battle plans in the face. If someone tried to tell him he should hide like a coward, he may truly get angry. A small smile flickered over his face at the thought.

Palpable silence hung over the PAC-3 missile base not far outside of Tokyo. Ten other men huddled at the round table with Kiku. A map covered it, but this and its miniature figures earned little attention. The majority of the room filled with flickering screens, men with headphones on, and phones. Technology left everything displayed on the giant screens taking up two walls. A perfect little command center. They watched the storm system approach on radar. Closer, closer…Kiku stood with his arm raised and ready to give the signal.

"Now!" He dropped his arm and the room exploded into noise. Orders flew from mouths in a jumble of words he understood only because he planned them. On the screen, small dots tracked toward the thing hidden in the storm. They couldn't see the UFO itself on radar. Until the aircraft came into range, they would have to make do with this. It took five minutes for the images on the center screens to shift. What had been steady ocean dropped away, flashed, then they were inside the storm. It didn't take long to come upon the massive beast inside.

"Target locked on. Initiating attack," droned an officer. Kiku confirmed and the squadron moved as one to flank the left of the ship. A hail of machine gun bullets rained out. For a span of ten seconds, clouds and darker smoke covered the screens. Did they hit? The question lasted another five before silver slid out into view, scorched black in pockets along the hull. It stood so close that the pilots had to pull back with a sleep climb. Clouds fell away to reveal blueness above. Below, the thunderheads darkened to an angry black. Lightning flashed inside as more energy gathered around.

The planes continued to swoop down for attacks, circling and closing in on the ship the same way a wolf pack corralled its prey. One bolt of lightning shot upwards and took out the jet on the formation's tail. One of the smaller screens blipped out.

Kiku's lips twisted. "I think we made the beast angry." Not one of his countrymen shared his humor. The officer ordered the crafts into a semi-retreat where they circled above, neither attacking or retreating. Kiku felt the antsyness that came from the first step back. Japan did not engage in war anymore and many of his people hated the idea of it. Kiku shared the sentiment, but an old part of his also saw chess pieces where human's should be. Even when lightning jumped in a physics defying arc upwards to take out two more aircraft, he called this gaining ground. As expected, the UFO showed little sign of damage from gunfire. Even if he crashed the remaining of his planes into the hull, it'd likely have no affect. What Kiku did gain was visual information on the ship and the seeds to plant his trap.

_Steady now. There is still far to go._He saw where the lightning originated in an organic black mass hanging off the ship's underside. It looked like something between metal, crystal, and bits of tubing. The attacks jumped out from circular pits between them all. Not from the clouds. The aliens did not control the weather, so like with any human weapon, he would target the guns and take it down. _They aren__'__t gods._A sharp nod put Kiku back in the place of a stood calm beside his men and he liked to think his presence calmed the atmosphere. "They are chasing after our squadron. Good, now draw that thing away from our cities!"

General Hirosha who remained silent until now looked back at him in worry. "The battleships aren't in place, sir."

Kiku sighed, but he expected this. "It's fine since we won't have to hold our own for long. The reinforcements are already on their way." He tapped his chin with a finger. He probably shouldn't sound so sure of this in front on his own people. If he turned out wrong, then he'd lose face. He trusted this though. Some things he understood as Kiku, not as Japan, and he understood the people around him.

His officers traded confused looks, but they scattered the aircraft toward the Sea of Japan. Storm clouds covered the sky for nearly a mile, but they contracted when the alien craft changed course to follow their bait. Good, the first phase of the plan worked. The rest hinged on getting the UFO to stop its course of destruction and fight. Everything else would fall into place after that. Two more squadrons of aircraft joined in to help herd the ship. Every time it moved off course, one plane would dart in to attack. Most of the time the UFO picked it off, but another plane just took the fallen's place. Each time this happened, the ship shifted and the squadrons closed in tighter. Together, they turned into the chosen place of battle.

"Attack!" Thunder shook the air as the big guns let loose their attack. Kiku heard it in his head. When he closed his eyes, he _felt _it as surely as the battle crews did. A second later, his eyes snapped open again. The anti-aircraft missiles hit their mark with all the firepower each ship had. The alien craft hovered low over the harbor, close enough that the ocean rippled and foamed from whatever power held it in the air. As the smoke cleared and the voices finished calling in their confirmed hits, silence descended. That much fire power…did they dare hope?

As if on cue, a giant bolt split the sky. Kiku winced and pulled his headphones away. Screams shrieked over the line and he did not need them, not when found his resolution wavering. Had it been this long since he last found himself at war? What happened to the country who could send his young men to die with nothing more than a patriotic dream? The new mentality made him weak. Another flash of that ungodly blue-white lightning struck again, taking another three ships out in a single beam. Dust rained into the room as the light waved and flickered. "Shit! What kind of force is that?!" Even miles away in Tokyo, they could feel the battle begin. The attack shook the earth that deep.

Kiku grabbed hold of the table until the shaking stopped. The command post stayed functioning. The stream of information did not flicker, as expected. Places like this were built to withstand and it did. They would. "Hold steady, men. We have a few tricks ourselves." Once again resolve strengthened and the ground did not shake again like that. All attention focused on incoming news and the attack escalated as they traded firepower.

The UFO continued with minor bouts of electricity compared to those first two bolts. Kiku wondered why in the part of his mind that whirled behind the steady orders and situational reports. The battle could be over in a matter of minutes against a technology that razed cities almost as efficiently as nuclear weapons and far neater, almost elegant. A race this superior should wipe the human race off the map with ease, but Japan held its own. Kiku had to wonder why they lasted this long. Things only continued to turn for the better. Where the two powers remained stalemated off the coast of Japan, another force moved in from the west.

"W-we just got news that North Korea is joining in!" The men looked among themselves, awed and fearful at just how their country knew this before they did.

Kiku didn't even react. "Good. Communicate to them our attack plan. We can use the help. South will be close behind."

"Hai!" The General saluted before turning to bark out more orders. Visuals illustrated the battle as the rest of Japan's battleships moved into range and the Korean's fleet slipped in from the other direction. "We've got those bastards where we want them now!" Another wave of missiles took to the air. This time, the alien ship shuddered. The clouds around it streaked away to reveal grey-blue skies. The monstrous object tottered in its flight and they held their breath. When the blue lights that ran in patches along the thing started flickering, Kiku knew something happened.

"Attack! Quick! Hit it again!" he exclaimed. An opening? With the storm dissipating, he could see the enemy clearer than before and he saw electricity rolling along the hull, except that glow faded with each second. Bright fire exploded in the sky. Debris flew out, for the first time this noticeable. Jets circled, taking part in the hunt until the sky went dark. The illusion ended a second later as the falling bit covering the cameras' passed by—a fifty foot long piece of the ship. The Japanese crowed with victory as it tumbled into the ocean.

"The enemy has stopped attacking!" Someone declared. Kiku finally allowed himself to sit. After fifty minutes of tense command, he felt ready for it to be over.

"Are they retreating?"

"No sir, but they're just sitting there. It's a bit…strange."

Kiku shook his head. Maybe they took out the weapons like they attempted from the start. Why did it have to be strange? Far stranger things happened in war. "Attempt to make contact. If they refuse to surrender and leave Earth, sink them." His orders were confirmed and then silence rained down. The noises of the room faded only to be replaced by Kiku's thoughts. The battle turned out to be surprisingly easy. He found it strange. Japan did not have an offensive military, even if he had help. Other's were stronger like China. Kiku's heart gave a little squeeze as he thought of Yao. It wasn't like they were in a relationship, not really. What they had besides history shouldn't have mattered much since he could end it at any time, but his mind strayed desperately toward the other man. Was he alright?

Despite knowing of the attack on Beijing, he did not call his sometimes lover. He heard word from his military, enough to know Yao lived along with his boss. They did not talk though and Kiku found himself wanting to hear his voice. Yao had a way of calming the panics Kiku sometimes gathered inside himself. No one saw what went on in his mind except his family and only Yao knew the words to say. Even if Kiku hated him at times, he relied on him. After one last sigh, his eyes fluttered open again. _Maybe I should call him?_

The ground beneath them shook. Kiku's attention snapped back to the present. A shriek split his ears for ten terrible seconds until it cut off. He ripped away his headphones and tossed them to the table. The void of silence left him chilled to the core.

"T-the aliens attacked again…" No one could quite believe it. Kiku raised his eyes to the monitors and saw the UFO cover itself once again in brilliant blue light. Another bolt of lightning struck a frigate and it splintered until almost nothing remained. "Counterattack!" But they failed. Suddenly the weapons that at least harmed before disintegrated against the blue light. Everything changed. Now they were an ant fighting a Goliath with impenetrable shields. Why, why now? The rain of destruction continued and Kiku couldn't do a thing about it.

"Another ship destroyed. We're about to lose everything. Should we…retreat?"

Kiku licked his lips. The sudden desire to run and lock himself in an empty room to _think _consumed him, but he pushed it away again. _Can__'__t. You can__'__t hide from war._ He opened his mouth to answer even before he knew what to say. Thankfully a man—Yuki his mind supplied—jumped out of his chair first. "The city's being attacked!" Everyone's eyes jumped to the screens. Here it was and Kiku had no idea what to do._ Go away, make this nightmare go away. All I wanted to do was protect someone instead of the other way around._

"Sir?" When he didn't answer, the SDF took control on their own. It wasn't like they needed their country to lead them. The people always led their countries. Wasn't that how it should have gone? Maybe then the battle wouldn't end in this way. Kiku's mind refused to accept this course despite the fact it made the most sense. He didn't deal well with losing—hadn't the last time either and that made it easy to stay away from war. He never wanted to repeat the past. The thought that it might repeat now made him want to keep fighting despite himself.

An alarm dragged Kiku out of his thoughts again. "What's-?" Everyone rushed around the room without paying him any attention. The white-washed walls painted red in intervals with the siren's lights. Every monitor showed a blank screen. After spinning in a slow circle, Kiku jumped as a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Come on! We don't have much time left," the young man exclaimed, his almond eyes wide. Kiku just gaped at him. He tried to stand his ground, but the general swell toward the door caught him up. The one who spoke disappeared and a minute later, Kiku found himself alone in the hall. He hurried after the crowd because he really wanted to know. Oh…he stumbled against a wall. He already knew. He was Japan and his people were retreating. _Oh, oh, oh._

Just as Kiku turned to run back, a voice called out to him. "It's already lost. We have to evacuate!" He shook his head and started running anyway. A fit of coughs made him pause again. For one frantic second, he thought smoked filled his lungs. When he cast about for the source though, only the steady blare of siren lights were to be seen.

"No! It's not over. There's still…there's…"

"There's what? Still time for America to come to our aid? The UN? We're alone and we _lost_," the man snapped. He grabbed hold of Kiku's arm and started to pull him outside again. When Kiku focused on his face, he recognized the man as Takashi and that relaxed him. He loved all his children, but this one made him focus a little more on reality. _Lost, they had lost._ What did he expect? Kiku's little body wanted to kick and scream, or crumple, or cry. He did none of those though. Takashi pushed him past the compound's gate and together they ran with screeches and gun fire filling the air.

Two men with rifles waited by a jeep, eyes on the scene unfolding behind them. When Kiku and Takashi reached the vehicle, they were waved ahead with an order to hurry. The transport already sat low with the weight of so many terrified and shocked bodies. Kiku stepped up last and the two guards hurried around to the front. As the vehicle lurched, he got a full view of the base.

Tan dust chocked the air. Slow paced cut-scene—unfolding too ethereal to be real. The base exploded in a millions shards of stone and metal. Kiku couldn't even think. Beyond the base, he refused to look, but his eyes strayed anyway. Lightning churned the sky. Royal blue and white light served as a backdrop for the black rain that wasn't water at all. Below it all, a yellow smokey haze hid most of the city. Where glass buildings did rise up, they reflected what he couldn't see. The alien ship cut a path of destruction through Tokyo, all played out on the landscape's big screens.

Kiku convulsed alone, standing at the back of the jeep as they left the metropolis behind. Even with preparedness, he felt the loss sharply. Evacuation? Bomb shelters? What a joke so short notice. He felt the city itself as it crumbled. Bile rose in his mouth. His knees quaked. Two more buildings fell and all he could think was, '_Dear god, what have I done?__'_

* * *

(Sorry this chapter took so long but it's my first time writing a large scale military offense. Lord knows I do not know how to write Japan! I wrote an interesting character, but I'm sorry if this is all OOC. I don't really regret it though.)


	5. Chapter 4 (Germany)

Ludwig's head rolled off his shoulder and onto his chest. A sharp pain shot up his neck and he groaned. His eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes struggled to open. Darkness encroached all around him, or was it grey? Everything he saw tinted grey and brown and he didn't even try to understand. "West? Hey, West…bruder? Ludwig!" Ludwig's eyes dropped closed as the familiar voice washed over him. Images piled into his mind, mixing present and memory. He didn't know which the voice belonged to. Perhaps both.

_"__West! Are you still here? By Great Fritz, you are!__" __Gilbert exclaimed as he stalked into Ludwig__'__s office in the government building. He put his hands on his hips and leaned against the doorway. Ludwig looked up, rubbing his forehead. __"__It__'__s only-__"_

_ "__Two in the morning!__" __Gilbert cut him off. Ludwig blinked, sitting up a little straighter in his chair as he glanced at the desk clock. Clear as day, 2:04am. He sighed and set down his pen with the same care as he arranged his stack of papers. _

_ "__I__'__m sorry, brother. We were supposed to go drinking after work and I lost track of time. There were just these papers and__…__I__'__m sorry.__" __Ludwig could barely push himself up from his chair. His body pulled down as if assaulted by an excessive force of gravity. His knees popped audibly when he straightened them. Five hours of sitting could do that to a man, especially one who favored being in the fields with his men. Someone had to pencil push though. _

_ Gilbert waltzed into the room, or he waltzed for two steps before he started staggering. His teeth flashed in a brilliant smile. __"__Don__'__t you worry lil bro, I went drinking by myself!__" __One more step and Gilbert deposited himself in Ludwig__'__s waiting arms. He slid down, unable to keep more than one foot under him at the same time. Ludwig watched with a stern expression. _

_ "__I can see that.__"_

_ Now that they stood this close, he could smell the beer on Gilbert__'__s breath__—__and in his clothes, and his hair for some strange reason. The silver locks stuck together and clumped, one strand dripping a bit of amber liquid. _

_ "__Your disgusting, Gilbert. Get off of me,__" __Ludwig complained as he pushed the smaller man to his own feet. Gilbert swayed, but managed to stay standing. He turned and blinked for a second before pointing to the desk. _

_ "__Look! Now it__'__s 2:0...um...f-fi...__" __He couldn__'__t collect enough words to speak and yawned instead._

_ Turning away, Ludwig gathered his things with a snort of disgust. He didn__'__t have time to deal with his brother__'__s drunken state. Though the man drank quite often, he rarely became intoxicated to this degree. That didn__'__t suit his image, but Ludwig knew the man behind it. When Gilbert wanted to be responsible, he could. H__e__ just chose not to. _

_ Ludwig reached for his glasses case__, but the plastic box tumbled to the floor. He stumbled, blinking. He didn__'__t touch __anything, so why were objects sliding off his desk and the floor rolling? A chill spread over him. He dropped down, spreading out his weight to deal with the shifts beneath him. All traces of tiredness evaporated. __"__What the hell is this?__" __A soldier didn__'__t need to know the situation though, he needed to survive it. Situation: the building was crumbling down around them. His stomach and his head hurt. He needed to get out. He needed to..._

_ "__Oh woah...ground! I didn__'__t drink this much...__"_

_ Spinning, Ludwig__'__s eyes widened. Gilbert stood half leaned up against a filing cabinet with a befuddled look on his face. Suddenly the room imploded around them. The ceiling flew inwards with the detritus of the floors above them__sliding down. The floor buckled, metal shooting up as the ground__plummeted. Gilbert stood there, staring at the mass careening toward him. _

_ "__Brother!__" __Ludwig__'__s hands connected hard with Gilbert__'__s chest, sending him tumbling across the room. The flash of red and silver seared his eyes, then pain exploded in his head and everything went dark. _

"West! Come on brother, wake up!" The voice filtered into Ludwig's consciousness again. Gilbert? Why was he yelling like that? Didn't he understand how bad his head hurt? But Gilbert kept chattering, his words becoming quicker and more mixed up as he did. "No...it's not that bad right? Nein! Bruder...no. Wake up I'm really scared!"

Ludwig's eyes snapped open. "Brother..." he groaned even before the world stopped spinning in front of his eyes. He pulled himself away from the hard surface he lay against and instantly doubled over, his stomach jumping into his throat. He huffed for a few seconds before the nausea passed him over. He vaguely noted scrabbling noises from his right and then Gilbert speaking again, this time less panicked.

"Thank Fritz! Hey, don't move so fast. You hit your head real hard and you've been out for hours. Probably got a concussion."

"I don't need you to tell me that," Ludwig muttered. He could feel the stiff layer of blood coating the back of his neck and matting his hair without Gilbert saying so. By now his eyes stopped swimming and he lifted his head to survey the room as he surveyed himself. No broken bones and he wasn't pinned under anything which must be a minor miracle. But where was Gilbert? Other than his brother's voice in the darkness, he found no sign of the man.

"Then just tell me you're alright!" Again that distressed voice. Ludwig swiveled his head to scan the claustrophobic state of the room. How long had it been since he heard a voice like that on his normally arrogant brother? Never, he chided himself because this voice sounded too much like...

Ludwig's eyes locked onto a pale face poking out from between two support beams, tears streaming down it. Ludwig swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully. Gilbert's voice…tears were the horrible sound he heard in it. Only one other time did Ludwig see his brother cry. The night after Gilbert came home from Russia, he crawled into Ludwig's bed like something small and wounded and completely unlike the mighty Prussia. Seeing that look now sent Ludwig's heart into overload. "Don't cry, brother. I'm fine. Just a little sore. Are you hurt?"

He struggled to his feet and crawled over the various things separating them. Gilbert's face disappeared for a second, the air filling with nervous laughter. "Ah what? Who's crying? I don't cry!" Gilbert exclaimed, his voice wavering and ending with a thump. Ludwig frowned and pushed past the remains of his desk. Most of the mess in the room couldn't be pushed aside though. They may not be crushed now, but if certain key pieces were to cave, the brothers would be pancaked under it all. He settled down on his knees beside the two support beams in time to see Gilbert pull himself up from where he fell on his rump. His face popped back between the beams with his hand resting within reach. Ludwig instantly grabbed hold of it.

No more space than a head's width existed between the beams. When Ludwig shoved Gilbert during the cave-in, the ceiling caved between them. Now, it kept them separated. Gilbert sniffled one more time before he continued speaking. "I already looked everything over. I can't move this stuff. I...I would have been over there with you otherwise."

Ludwig nodded once. "It's fine brother. Please don't worry over it." If any other person told him the way was blocked, he test it himself. He could trust Gilbert though as the one who taught him all his skills. Ludwig had other problems to worry over now. "What we need to figure out is the outside situation. Without a doubt, Germany is under attack!"

Gilbert's face settled into a grim line. "Ja, I feel it too," he said, gripping his shirt just above his heart. The spot where Ludwig also felt a sicking pain. Their hands still rested together and Ludwig turned Gilbert's over to intertwine their fingers. Briefly, just for one second. Then he pulled away and turned into the military leader they needed right now.

"Status report!"

After pulling his hands back into his lap, Gilbert's face settled into a calm lake, free of the wild emotions from before. Ludwig knew him well enough to see the relief in his brother's eyes. He wanted something to distract him. He didn't want to be this emotional because he also felt comfortable in the role of a soldier. In this one thing, both brother's always agreed. "I sprained my ankle and my phone's battery is almost dead," Gilbert answered with the same seriousness before dropping his eyes. "Sorry, but I kept using it to see your face. Checking if you woke up."

Ludwig shook his head and gave up on telling Gilbert it was alright. If he wanted to be like this, nothing Ludwig said would change it. "There are no bars I expect?"

"None!" his brother replied with a bright smile. Ludwig's own lips twitched ever so lightly upwards. It hurt too much to smile now, but he thanked his brother for trying. Sometimes hope could be a soldier's most powerful ally.

Ludwig found his phone not far from where he lay earlier. It lit up with a full green battery as he expected. He set the thing to light the area and began moving around. His head still hurt, but whatever small injuries he'd incurred didn't phase him. "Brother, you wrapped your ankle yes?" A huff of indignation answered him. Ludwig rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I bother asking. But since you're mobile, what useful things are on your side? If we can't use phones, then maybe a radio. I kept one in the filing cabinets you were leaning against before this happened. Conserve your battery life. We'll use my phone unless necessary. It's fully charged."

Gilbert snorted, but the rummaging noises signaled he did as Ludwig asked. The younger brother smiled slightly at that. Not that he expected less from Gilbert, but he still marveled at the ease his brother followed him. It wasn't always that way. "I think this twisted and very pointy strip of metal is your filing cabinet?" Gilbert said, interrupting his brother's thoughts.

"Is there anything in it?" An impatient tone colored Ludwig's voice. That the cabinet was twisted told him nothing. He certainly wasn't finding anything astounding on his side. So far, the recognizable things consisted of pencils, nails, a stapler, and an odd pair of shoes. He hoped fervently they hadn't been on someone before the building collapsed. His jacket took some effort to maneuver out from under a mess of splintered wood, but the warmth it spread over his shoulders made the effort worth while. He wanted to sit down and rest his throbbing feet and back and the headache that never quite faded. If he allowed that though, he feared he wouldn't get up again. He needed to be strong now if not for himself, then for his brother and the world. As long as Gilbert worked, he would as well.

After a minute of noises and incompressible German mutterings coming from Gilbert and growing impatience from Ludwig, the older let out a gleeful yell. Almost immediately after he uttered it though, the man let out a nervous laugh. "Ludwig! Do you know how to fix a radio?"

Ludwig's eyebrow twitched. "Give that here!" he roared. Gilbert uttered a small meep before handing the radio over to the man lunging at the clutter separating them. Once the radio left his hands, he stuck his tongue out at Ludwig's back. The taller man turned, giving him a suspicious glare, but Gilbert's face already settled into one of innocence. Ludwig resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stoop to the same level of immaturity as his brother.

The two settled at the gap by the support beams. Ludwig rested his back against a stable part and Gilbert crossed his arms in the gap and rested his chin there to watch. It took Ludwig only five minutes to learn the device could still be used. A little tweaking and he'd be sending out a message in no time. He soared at the thought of setting out a plan and bringing it to fruition. Not yet though, he had some work to do.

Ludwig spoke only to send his brother on errands. Whenever he needed some makeshift replacement or a tool to tweak something, he'd just say so and in remarkable time, it'd be in his hands. He never had to look up from the radio until he turned the dial and static filled the room. Gilbert clapped his hands on Ludwig's shoulders.

"You did it!"

Ludwig nodded and made a small noise in answer, but he felt the same joy. He turned the dial until he came to the right frequency. One deep breath in, one out. Now that he achieved his task, he easily moved on to the next. Clasping the device close, he sent his strongest voice out over the airwaves. "Calling all peoples, this is Germany. Any country listening, please respond. Calling..."

For fifteen minutes, nothing. Ludwig turned the dials, still searching for any frequency with voices. He'd just flipped past one, when he suddenly flipped back. Had that been human noise or just a hiccup in the static? "Hello! Is someone out there?"

Something clattered, or at least he thought the noise could be classified as a clatter. "Germany? Oh my god is that you!?"

"America…?" he asked over the continued noises coming from the radio, though it sounded like Alfred moved away from the device and talked to himself.

"...Wow, who knew being stuck with old stuff like this would come in handy. Hey Ludwig, do you know what's going on?" the young nation asked.

Ludwig had no idea. He was about to say as much when Gilbert yelled across the space. "We're trapped in a collapsed building!"

A minute of silence passed and Ludwig sent his brother a scathing glare. If Alfred left the line in one of his childish fits, Ludwig would scream. He'd throw something at Gilbert and he did not want to lose that last ounce of patience. Finally, awkward laughter filtered over the radio. "Oh man...sorry. That sucks. I'm hiding with my boss and some others underground. Things got pretty dicey for a while, but I'm pissed they won't let me out. A hero can't be a hero locked in a storage room with stupid things, but they said I was being unreasonable! Can you imagine that?"

"_Alfred_," Ludwig warned. The other voice dropped off in an instant and Gilbert's smirk tripled. Ludwig let the silence intensify a second longer before taking control of the conversation. "Have you been in contact with anybody else?"

"Hm? Sure! I called my brother and he called Ivan for me, then called me back. Anyway, Mattie is fine and so is Ivan. Mattie said he'd try to get in contact with Francis and Arthur, but I don't know if he did. You're the first I reached by radio!"

Exactly how wide spread was this attack? Little by little Ludwig learned more. Any information would do and he found himself glad America answered. Another country might not connect with so many others in such little time. For all his uselessness in world meetings, America made a decent ally after you whipped him a few times. "And who are they saying did this?"

"Aliens!"

Gilbert burst out laughing. Ludwig just stared at the radio, stunned. "Haha, no really. Are you sure this wasn't Russia?" the older German called out. He was laughing too hard to shudder even when he said the icy nation's name.

"Aw no way. I saw them. I couldn't come up with a winged monster like that even in my best movies and that's saying a lot!" Alfred laughed back. He didn't sound bothered by the German brothers' disbelief. After a second though, his laughter died and Ludwig had the strange thought that it was forced in the first place. He'd never pry though.

"Okay." He accepted the information despite the incredulity of it because nothing else made sense right now. Aliens. Why not? "You keep using the radio and I will as well. One week from now, get the word out to as many as you can and we'll have a world meeting on this frequency. You remember it, Alfred."

"Yeah, I'll get the word out."

Ludwig nodded as he settled back. "Germany out." Now they just had to wait. However long it would be, hopefully all the nations could come together and fight. There were others in better position than him. He could at least have hope then. In the meantime, he would scour the radio waves and hopefully get in contact with his own government. He didn't want to believe the throbbing in his heart meant something as terrible as he thought. He knew this pain like a dear old enemy he met often. The feeling spoke of death and of being lost without a leader. Ludwig would not voice this though because it would make the feeling real and more than anything he did not want it to be so.

Gilbert never had the same bend toward silence. He held Ludwig's hand over his heart between trembling fingers. Only his voice did not tremble. "Lud…I think our boss is dead." And Ludwig couldn't say a thing to contradict him.

* * *

(So a little update here. I'm going to write another one of my fics for nanowrimo this year so this story will be going on hiatus probably until the new year. I just wanted to get these few chapters up before November. I promise I will come back to this story.)


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